Sophie stopped and squeezed her temples. “I just don’t know what I could have done with it.”

Maxine wrapped her arms around her and held tight. Sophie’s tear-stained cheeks and slippery lips moistened Maxine’s neck. She pressed her breasts to Sophie’s and remembered what it was like without the barrier of clothes. Dancing nipples, they’d called it.

“Shh, don’t worry, pet. It’ll turn up.”

Maxine wiped a tear that trickled alongside Sophie’s mouth, and then pressed her lips to the same spot. Sophie turned. Their lips met. Salty, tender licks and soft, little sucks, followed by a burst of hunger. Lips and tongues mating. Mouths salivating.

She mashed her body against Sophie’s. Wishing the clothes away. Wishing for sex against sex.

But it ended abruptly. Sophie’s doing.

“Don’t you remember?” Maxine whispered.

“Of course I remember. I’ll always remember.”

Maxine felt an instant of bliss before Sophie crushed it. “But that was a long time ago. Before John. It’s not me and you any more, Maxine. It’s me and John.”

But it should be us, thought Maxine. She didn’t want to cry. She’d cried enough already. She reached into her pocket, fingering the band of gold tucked inside, and pushed it deeper.